


Magic

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 04:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21440587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: You wanted a prompt? HERE'S A PROMPT! "There's something about her magic..."Asked by Naralanis back at tumblr
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 81





	Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naralanis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/gifts).

> A/N Set after the war. Some time-jump after.

_“W_ill you teach me how to create a patronus?”

The question echoed in the room, unanswered, as Hermione blinked away from the book she had been reading, comfortable in the warmth the charmed blanket that was draped at her feet created. Closing the book, reading forgotten, she looked at Narcissa as the blonde woman gazed at her, blue eyes glimmering under the golden light that filled the small space the brunette had learned to call home.

In all honesty the studio wasn’t exactly homey but a refuge for the both of them; a place to be while the rest of the world kept its grey-ish pace and Hermione tilted her head as she made the conscious effort of filtering the noise that seeped through the old glass window which opened to a mix of magical and muggle London alike. Her brain always needed a few seconds to catch up with reality after being immersed in a book for so long and she felt silently grateful of the older witch as the blonde let her have those seconds of precious time, composure never wavering, eyes never looking away.

Moving herself closer to the older woman, taking into the warmth of her side as she leant on her, Hermione left the book she had been reading onto her lap and reached for Narcissa’s right hand, fingertips grazing the other’s knuckles as she thought on the question again, on what it meant.

Ever since they had started this –whatever this was as neither of them had truly felt the need of seriously naming it- Hermione had felt the push of Narcissa’s magic lapping into her own. A source of strength and power that, as opposed to other wizards and witches the brunette had met, was much more subdued inside the blue-eyed woman. It fed on curiosity, however, just as hers did and Hermione could spend hours listening to Narcissa’s thought-process, on how the older woman saw the world. It was less restrictive than what her surname would have let one think; the vast knowledge Narcissa stored within her one of the things that the younger witch sometimes felt as if she would gladly drown into.

Yet, despite that, Narcissa had never asked as she just had; not for a charm or a hex or a potion and Hermione bit her lower lip as she considered how frail Narcissa’s magic now felt beneath her skin, heartbeat just as brittle.

She understood it, she also hated admitting she couldn’t reach the solution for something on her own and while she would repeat time and time again that Narcissa would probably be able to create the Patronus without a problem she had seen the way the older woman would look at the small otter the few times Hermione had sent a message with it, the muscle memories from the war still present in the way she would tighten the grasp on her wand.

Startling when Narcissa turned her hand up, her fingers slightly curved so Hermione could closed hers around them, she followed the silent request, strength dripping through. There, faint but vibrating, the brunette could feel the energy she always felt in the air whenever the youngest of the three Black sisters used her magic. It was delicate, silver-like. Magic was similar but never the same for anyone and there was something about Narcissa’s magic that hold Hermione’s attention, charmed her in, whenever she was near: a distant pull colored by Slytherin colors and a hue of something else she wasn’t entirely able to voice, crystal-like. Tinting the pale, almost far too pale, skin, rivulets of magic reached to Hermione’s, the power one she could sense with just the barest of nudges.

Rising Narcissa’s hand, Hermione dropped a kiss on it, her lips warm against slightly colder skin: reveling on it she let her eyes fall closed. There was always this, the quietness, the calmness the other woman exuded, that made her open her eyes at the end and mutter a quick “Yes.”

She got up, pulling the blanket away from her as she turned towards the blonde, the way Narcissa followed her as elegant as the wisps of magic that fell from her fingertips, coiling around her veins.

It was strange, Harry would say, how for someone so analytical magic always felt like art for Hermione, an array of colors and threads. The young man, however, wasn’t there, in the small studio apartment filled with books and solved cases Hermione displayed as proud as she was able to: memories of a job well done as she managed to cut through ages upon ages of stagnant magic laws.

“Do you know the way you need to hold your wand for this?” The question, the inflection of her voice, came to her just as easy and she spied a small smile on Narcissa’s face before the blonde nodded, holding her wand with just the exact precision it needed: silver and mahogany mixing together under Hermione’s gaze.

It was, maybe, too perfect, too text-book like. But when had that stopped her? Taking a step closer towards the older witch Hermione pressed two fingers above Narcissa’s wrist, making the angle of the wrist and arm relax and change just the smidge it needed to be.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t manage to make it corporeus on the first try.” Her voice had dropped a whisper now more than a full-fleshed tone and Narcissa’s response –a slight change on her breathing, the way her chest rose and fell next to hers, made Hermione be the one who smiled this time.

“I know.” The answer was laced with nervousness all the same and Hermione hummed before letting her hand fall away, eyes focused as she breathed in Narcissa’s perfume.

It felt grounding in a way and she loved the blonde witch for that, for the easy way she made such questions fall from her lips, for how her magic called for hers –never demanding, always loving-.

There was something about her after all.

One day, she told herself, she would admit it outloud. One day.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that we are here; Lullabyroses has started a fucking fantastic crossover between Harry Potter and Doctor Who that's going to be fucking amazing and she deserves all the love. The fic is called Between Time and Space and I heavily rec it if you are a fan of worldbuilding and descriptions.


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